Reassessment is something that I do from time to time. Three or four times a year, spurred by a book or an event or a dream, I will step back from my life and think, "What's broken now?" It's a good way for me to rearrange my thoughts and feelings, and to reevaluate my friendships and beliefs. In essence, it's Time To Fix Shit.
This week, I have entered a Reassessment Phase. Though often not particularly comfortable, this is a good thing, something I needed. I have, for the most part, stepped away from life-- taking time out from everything normal. I haven't been to the gym in four days. I have spent less than five minutes on Facebook since Sunday, and that was only to load some new photos of the kids for my Mom. I'm not talking on the phone, really. I'm not watching television. I'm ignoring the world. I score essays. I mother my children. I talk to my husband. I score more essays. I read books, piles and piles of lovely books, and bemoan the birth of the kindle and all it implies about the world. I think. I think a lot. Not worry, there's a difference. Not worry. Just think.
That is where I am right now.
What I've learned about myself is vital, just as important as my blood and bones and soul. Or perhaps it isn't what I've learned so much, as what I've allowed myself to actually FEEL, as opposed to racing through my days and ignoring what ails me until it builds up to the point of explosion. I let myself miss my Dad. My Grandfather. My Carpenter. My E. My Ray. I let myself stay up late and wander the house, reading my Dad's obituary at 2am, or to go to bed at 8pm because I'm too tired and sad to keep my eyes open any longer. I skip lots of meals. I forget what day it is. I just allow myself to be, with no expectations, as best I can. I am hollow and zen.
And I also experience the good things. I lie on the floor with the dogs and just play with them. I take deep inhalations of my children, smelling their lavender shampoo and sweet sweaty smells. I sit on the porch and spend twenty minutes alone looking at a double rainbow, the brightest I've ever seen. I taste my husband's skin. I find joy in our blooming lilacs, a quiet cup of coffee, a message from my Mom.
There is no how and why to my life. It's messy and hard-- messier and harder as I grow older and wiser. In a few days, I'll probably return to the whirlwind that is myself, hopefully with a sunny handful of lessons in my grasp that I will hold close to my heart and keep fresh in my mind. But even if I don't, even if nothing stays with me, at least I have now. At least I have these few sweet moments. And for that, I am thankful.